


Cleanup and Aftermath

by LockedOnJohn



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Banner & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Gen, Natasha a Bruce have a chat, Natasha and Bruce could be really great friends but AOU ruined that, Possible implied Clint and family, and most of the things that come with it, but you can ignore it, ie: all of the pairings, including some pairings, it's all up for interpretation really, possible implied clintasha, this author is anti-AOU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 03:59:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6358171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LockedOnJohn/pseuds/LockedOnJohn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle of New York (is that what they're calling it now?), Bruce needs to address an issue: He almost killed Natasha.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Cleanup and Aftermath

Despite the attack on New York City only hours before, night still fell as boldly and rhythmically as ever. The Avengers (as they had agreed to call themselves), with no place to go for the night, had been invited to recuperate at the SHIELD headquarters until the next morning when the questions, interviews, and press conferences would begin. After quick assessments of injuries, they were free to struggle with the crushing reality that now included that statement: We fought aliens today, as well as the even more startling truth: _We’re a team._

But even though they were a team on paper, the news reels, and file, they needed time to themselves. They needed to cope. One battle does not a true team make, especially not when each of its members are equally fragmented within themselves. The Battle of New York may have glued them all together, but glue takes time to set, so each Avenger found themselves veering off into one direction or another after being poked, bandaged, and stitched.

Tony tried to persuade a group of agents to show him to a workspace, but after some convincing on behalf of the agents (and a barrage of unsuccessful threats and status boasts from Tony) he shrugged off to his quarters to inevitably tinker with anything in the room he could get his hands on. Steve ran off with Maria Hill to discuss future endeavors and alliances (and perhaps some pop culture references he had missed), while Clint was escorted to Psych upon return, obliging without much fuss. Thor could be heard bellowing down the hall as he introduced agents to the array of tricks he had prepared with Mjolnir. The sounds of powerful fists attacking the thick flesh of punching bags in SHIELD’s gym could be traced to Natasha, and Bruce introduced himself to the room with a nearly silent squeak of the door opening.

Natasha immediately froze with her fists up and turned toward the door. It was well past three in the morning, and although it wasn’t uncommon for her to share gym space at odd hours, she was still working off adrenaline from the day’s fight.

Bruce, at once relieved to see Natasha but surprised to see her in such an active battle stance, threw his hands up in surrender. “It’s just me.” He winced, though, knowing that his presence wasn’t exactly a comforting one.

As quickly as Natasha had turned toward him, she turned back to the bag and began punching again, kicking it after every third jab. The chains it hung from shrieked at the impact.

Bruce cleared his throat and ran a hand through freshly washed hair. “Um, hey.”

“Hello,” Natasha replied coolly, kicking the bag with more force than necessary. The bag protested once more and began swinging wildly.

“You should be sleeping. We have a lot on the schedule for tomorrow. Fury said he needed us prepped by eight, and…” he trailed off as Natasha appeared not to be listening.

“So you came here at two in the morning to tell _me_ that _I_ shouldn’t be awake?” she asked, completely ignoring the second half of Bruce’s statement. _One, two, three, kick, one two three…_

He wasn’t sure what to say to that. He _was_ still awake. He couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, images of what _he_ saw today flashed through his mind. Bruce could feel his pulse race. It was a nightmare night. Sleep wasn’t an option. “Yeah,” he muttered lamely, “I guess I am.” He paused. “And it’s three thirty now,” he added quickly, glancing at his watch. Bruce lazily punched a speed bag and watched as it swung.

Natasha let out an uninterested “Huh,” and abruptly stopped her workout to reach for a water bottle sitting on a large metal stool. She took a long drink and set it back down. “Is there any other reason you’re here?” She quickly assessed his outfit. A dress shirt and pants. Not exactly workout material.

“I just wanted to talk.” He eyed her as well. Fresh stitches on her forehead were covered by a small white bandage. Instead of her long-sleeved jacket, she was only wearing a black tank top, so he was able to see the bruises that had begun to form in ugly blue and purple blotches on her pale arms. Even more slipped under the edges of her shirt. Under her leggings he could see that her ankle was tightly bandaged. Dozens of small abrasions littered her face and chest, her only exposed skin during the battle. “About today,” he added.

“I thought that was what tomorrow was for,” she said, unwrapping the protective cloth from her hands. She flexed her fingers and inspected them thoroughly. She then cracked her knuckles and turned toward him, listening.

“Not just about… _that_.” He said cringing slightly, still feeling ridiculous every time he said “aliens” out loud. “About us- you? Me?” he began stuttering, not sure anymore what exactly he meant to say. Was it an apology? And explanation? A warning?

Natasha saw through it immediately. “If you came to apologize, you don’t have to.”

“Yes I do.” He did. Or at least he felt like he did. “I hurt you.” He gestured toward her injuries, and a series of disjointed memories of him flinging her into the walls of the Helicarrier echoed in the back of his mind… the burn of her eyes as they pleaded with him in utter fear. He didn’t just give her bruises.

"I’m fine and it wasn’t your fault.” It was almost easy to believe her, but Bruce knew he couldn’t. He had been warned about the Widow, about her ability to control thoughts—not in the way that Loki can, but in the way that makes you want to believe her. In the way that opens you up without your permission because you feel like you can trust her.

Then she crushes you. 

Bruce caught the small waver in her voice, however, and saw the same glimpse of fear in her eyes he had seen when they first met, merely a shadow of the full-blown panic when she met the Hulk.

Bruce wasn’t going to let her convince him that she was unaffected. “You’re not fine and it was my fault,” he insisted.

Natasha sighed, more out of pity than resignation. “I don’t blame you.” She removed the edge from her tone but not her body. She really did mean it, or at least she wanted to. Last time _she_ was angry, she slit a _very_ important man’s throat because he passively insulted her shoes. Natasha realized Bruce didn’t know her past well enough to understand that she had made a lot of mistakes when she wasn’t in control either. If anyone had a chance at understanding, it was her.

Bruce studied her eyes closely. He just couldn’t tell if he was looking at Natasha or the Widow. “Well you _should_.”

Bruce suddenly snarled and slammed his foot into the stool, sending the water bottle across the room and the stool into the wall. The noise was deafening, but Natasha’s face stayed calm. Well, almost calm. If he hadn’t been looking for it, he wouldn’t have seen the slight twitch of her hand into a fist, or the way she dug her heel into the ground, and especially not the almost unperceivable flicker of absolute terror that flashed across her eyes.

She quickly composed herself, though, in a manner that was so fluid the untrained eye might not even catch that she had changed at all. “You need to stop trying to prove yourself to me. I pulled a gun out on you once, and you proved then that you weren’t a threat.” She was stern, but then softened. “I’m not afraid of you. I’m-”

“ _You’re just afraid of him_ ,” Bruce mocked. “Everyone’s just ‘ _afraid of him_.’ But you know what the problem is? Nobody knows where I end and he begins. Nobody _trusts_ me,” Bruce was breathing heavily now. “And you know what? _They shouldn’t_! Today proved that I can’t always be in control. I still can’t keep him inside one hundred percent of the time. I don’t want to think of myself as a time bomb, Natasha, _but I am_. The fact of the matter is that you should be _terrified_ of me. He almost _killed_ you.” He paused to catch his breath and whispered quietly, as if to himself “ _He would have_.”

Natasha was relaxed again, so much so that she sat on the ground in front of him and waited for him to cool down. Natasha looked at the ground at Bruce’s feet and then back at him in a gesture to join her. Bruce wiped his face with his hand and fell into a cross-legged position.

“First, you’re not the only person on this team who has almost killed me, so I’m not going to hold that against you. Second, I appreciate the speech, but that’s _not_ what I was going to say. I’m not afraid of you, and I’m not afraid of him. And I know the difference. What I was going to say is that I don’t _trust_ him.”

“What, and you trust _me_?” Bruce could only stare at her in a combination of disgust and disbelief.

“Have you looked outside, Banner? Do you have any concept of what happened here today?” She gave him a moment to think, but continued without a response. “We fought with a manchild in a metal suit, an Asgardian prince, a circus archer, and a _fossil_ against a race of aliens led by some mythological _brat_ to save the entire planet.” Bruce continued to stare at her, so she went on. “You helped in that fight. We were a team, all of us. It didn’t go smoothly, but you helped save the Earth,” Natasha paused, her eyes softening. “I trust you.”

Bruce could only let out a bewildered “Huh.”

“To be fair, though, Stark trusted you from the beginning, so naturally I didn’t until I made the decision myself.”

Bruce chuckled at that. “Trauma is always good for forming friendship.”

“Friendship?” Natasha let the word roll around on her tongue, then lightly snorted at the idea. The response was more of a holdover from past programing than reflective her true feelings. “I was taught never to be so vulnerable,” she said with a smirk.

Bruce looked slightly shocked, but Natasha wasn’t finished.

“… but I’ve done a lot of unlearning since then. You’re a good person, Bruce. Better than Stark, better than Clint, a hell of a lot better than me. Maybe not as good as Captain America, and I’m not sure if Thor counts seeing as he’s a god... But I think we’re going to be okay.”

Bruce looked down and smiled momentarily, but popped his head back up. “Way to throw everyone under the bus. Tony, sure, but Barton? I thought you two had a, uh… _special bond_?” Bruce used his fingers to mark the word with quotes.

Natasha’s smirk grew. She tilted her head down slightly and looked at Bruce through her lashes, almost as if she was embarrassed to admit her true vulnerability. “Who do you think taught me to trust people again?”

Bruce raised an eyebrow but wasn’t terribly surprised. He hadn’t had much time to learn about any of his teammates, but he could believe that Clint was the one that helped Natasha, and if any of the mere whispers of reports he _did_ hear were true, it wasn’t an easy job. “If he could do _that_ , how is he not as good of a man as me?”

Natasha rose from her spot and looked over her shoulder at Bruce, still on the ground.

“He cheats when he plays card games with children.”

Bruce couldn’t help but laugh, and Natasha smiled genuinely.

They held onto their smiles before letting them turn into yawns and bid each other a mutual goodnight. Natasha returned her gear to its place while Bruce replaced the stool and handed Natasha her water bottle. She received it gracefully and turned to leave before Bruce called out to her.

“Natasha?”

She turned her head and raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

Bruce released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and relaxed his shoulders.

“Thank you.”

She smiled one more time before turning back around.

“Anytime, Bruce.”

**Author's Note:**

> I can't excuse AOU for what it did to Natasha and Bruce, but I can try to reconcile it with myself in some way. This is my argument for they could have possibly turned from friends to lovers... because I feel like an explanation was in order, and we never got one. This would obviously only be the beginning. I don't plan on continuing this train of thought at all, but I needed to write it for myself to make sense of some choices made in the films.  
> Regardless, I hope it's not too out of character. I am somewhat wary of writing Natasha as being so trusting off the bat, and to my defense, I don't think she actually fully trusts Bruce yet (and certainly not the Hulk)... But she needs Bruce to trust her, and she knows she needs to trust him if she wants to stop fearing the Hulk. So I take her actions as initially formulaic that eventually turn genuine and warm... but yeah. That was a lot of justification, and I hope I didn't ruin it all by saying it. 
> 
> Anyway! Review if you'd like! Thank you for reading!


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